It was dinnertime.
The silence at the dining table was so deep that even the clinking of forks and knives sounded like explosions. Zain was focused on his plate, but his eyes kept drifting, again and again, to the bandage wrapped around Anya's hand.
Just then, Anya's phone rang.
Her most trusted friend Kaiya's name flashed brightly on the screen. Anya glanced at Zain for a brief moment and then answered the call.
Chapter: False Happiness and Bitter Truth
Part 1: Kaiya's Cheerfulness
"Anyaa!" Kaiya's voice burst out the moment the call connected.
"How are you? Do you know what Nan Pan did for me today? He came home early from the office and is cooking my favorite pasta for me. He takes such good care of me. Honestly, I'm so lucky!"
It felt as if a lump had formed in Anya's throat.
She looked at Zain, who was eating without any expression on his face. Anya tried her best to make her voice sound cheerful.
"Oh wow, Kaiya! That's really wonderful. Nan Pan has always been the 'Husband of the Year.' I'm also… I'm also very happy here. Just a little burden of work," Anya said, pretending to laugh.
Part 2: The Boss Mention and Anya's Sarcasm
Kaiya asked excitedly,
"Hey, listen—your grumpy boss… what was his name? Zain Yan! Does he still target you? Hasn't he had enough of harassing you?"
Anya shot a sideways glance at Zain.
Zain's hand paused for a second—he had heard what Kaiya said.
Deliberately making sure Zain could hear her, Anya said,
"Oh no, Kaiya, that doesn't happen anymore. Actually, I'm watching a very interesting 'drama' these days. A drama where the hero thinks he's the villain, but in reality, he's just a victim of his own bitterness."
Part 3: The Drama Lover
Kaiya laughed.
"Drama? You've always loved serials and dramas. You really are a big drama lover, Anya! But be careful—what if your boss changes the climax of that drama?"
"I'll write the climax myself, Kaiya," Anya said calmly.
"Alright, I'll hang up now. The food is getting cold."
Part 4: Zain's Reaction
After the call ended, silence once again filled the hall.
Zain picked up his wine glass, took a sip, and said in a low voice,
"Drama lover, huh? So you think everything happening here is just a play?"
Looking down at her plate, Anya replied,
"It is a play, sir. You're pretending to hate, and I'm pretending to be happy. The truth is, we're both tired characters in this drama."
Zain placed his hands on the table and leaned closer to Anya's face.
"If this is a drama, then remember—its ending won't be a happy one."
Anya met his gaze without fear.
"I know. Because tragedies never have happy endings."
As soon as Zain said those bitter words while looking into Anya's eyes, he tried to stand up from his chair.
But suddenly, a sharp pain shot through his waist and his wound. His face tightened, and a groan escaped his lips. He was about to lose his balance when Anya quickly stepped forward and caught him.
"Careful!" Anya said anxiously.
She placed Zain's arm over her shoulder so he wouldn't fall.
Despite being in pain, Zain made a failed attempt to push her away.
"Leave me… you don't need to worry about me. I'm fine," he tried to bring his usual harshness into his voice, but it trembled because of the pain.
This time, Anya didn't listen.
Her grip tightened. Looking straight into Zain's eyes, she said,
"How can I not worry? You're in pain right now, and I'm here."
Zain snapped at her,
"Is this also part of your 'drama'? Are you just pretending?"
Moisture filled Anya's eyes, but she didn't let herself weaken.
With determination, she said,
"Even if this marriage is just a one-year agreement, even if you hate me, at this moment I am your wife. And as your wife, caring for you is my right. You can stop me from working—but you cannot stop me from worrying about you."
Zain fell silent.
The truth and authority in Anya's words melted the 'icy monster' inside him for just a moment. He could only stare at her as she carefully helped him toward the stairs.
Anya supported Zain and slowly seated him on the sofa.
His face had turned pale from pain, and his breathing was heavy. As soon as he sat down, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes.
Without wasting a moment, Anya ran to get the first-aid box and the hot compress pouch.
When she knelt beside Zain and started unbuttoning his shirt to check his wound, Zain suddenly grabbed her hand.
"What are you doing?" he asked in a restrained voice.
"The same thing that is my right," Anya replied fearlessly.
She gently removed his hand and began the hot compress.
As the warmth slowly eased Zain's pain, the tension in his body reduced slightly.
He opened his eyes and looked at Anya. She was caring for him with such concentration. The same hands that had been washing dishes just moments ago were now tending to his wounds.
A conflict raged inside Zain.
He couldn't understand how he was supposed to continue hating a woman who endured every pain he inflicted on her, yet never stopped caring for him.
In a low voice, he said,
"You're a complete fool, Anya. I want to burn you, and you're healing my wounds."
Anya looked up, an unusual light shining in her eyes.
"Maybe only water can extinguish fire, Zain. You're burning in the fire of your memories, and I just can't watch you burn."
Silence lingered for a while.
Then Zain grabbed Anya's hand and pulled her closer to him. The room was dimly lit, and the distance between them had almost vanished.
"One year…" Zain whispered.
"Remember—after one year, you'll leave."
"I know," Anya said softly.
"But until then, I'm not in your captivity—I'm with you."
Zain notices the glasses resting on Anya's eyes.
Her gaze was fixed on his wounds. In her eyes was Zain's pain—the pain that Zain himself couldn't even feel properly.
He thinks to himself,
"Why does this woman break down my walls every single time?"